Explore the World
by Channel Jumper
Summary: Going through the life of America's states, the continents, provinces, and also old kingdoms or powers that once exist, lets explore this beautiful world! A series of stories of the world we love through history, or just being random.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

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**Idaho's Problem**

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Oregon was running in a hallway, trying to get to his friend, Idaho's house. He knew that it wasn't important, until he saw what was the damage. He wondered what made Idaho so upset, that Wyoming had to call for him.

When he reached to his house, he knew what it was. Idaho was sulking in a corner, whilst Wyoming was making a smoothie for him.

"Wyoming!" Oregon told the brown-haired boy in a thick coat. Wyoming stopped putting carrots into a blender, and looked at Oregon. Oregon motioned to Idaho, and Wyoming nodded. "Dad took away all his potatoes for a while, but he's still not cooperating well." Wyoming is right, Idaho was still sulking in a corner, eating an apple. An apple! Everyone knew something's wrong if Idaho ate an apple.

"He's also drunk, so I suggest you back away," Wyoming added, making Oregon look horrified at the fact.

"Shut up!" Making the two states jump, seeing a weary, red-faced Idaho limping to them. "Wyoming, why are you accusing your older brother being a drunkard? I want you to die in hell," Idaho accused Wyoming, pointing at him, miserably trying to stay sober, his voice slurred.

"Hey!" Wyoming shouted, looking angry at Idaho. "Even if I'm a few days younger than you, I don't want to be insulted by a drunk potato freak!"

"Shut up brother!" Idaho shouted, tripping his feet. "I'm the older brother of all of you, and no one can contradict!"

"Actually, I'm older than all of you by a few decades," Oregon replied.

"Shut up Oregon!" Idaho shouted, throwing a wine bottle at him, but missing him completely. "You don't understand the pain of losing something you love. Dad doesn't understand, and he took my famous potatoes away from me!"

"Actually, he did get his burgers banned from his country once, and he was crying in his room for a week, then forcing England to stop the ban with his military force," Oregon replied again.

"Oh my god! Shut up Oregon! You're giving me a headache," Idaho shouted, then fell to the floor after tripping.

Wyoming sighed, and lift the state back to his feet, who shown a dazed expression. "Should we knock him out, or let a car run him over?" Wyoming asked.

Oregon shook his head. "Just leave him in his bed, I had enough today."

After Wyoming placed Idaho in his bed, the two states were now in his couch, watching South Park in an awkward silence.

"Hey," Oregon asked Wyoming.

"Yay?"

"Do you think there's a reason for Alfred for taking away Idaho's potatoes?"

"I don't know, I want to ask the same thing."

**BLAM!**

The two states scrambled up as they saw Idaho's door kicked over by a figure. He held bags of potatoes in his hands, and has blond hair with dark shades, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Washington!?" The two states exclaimed, looking blond with wide eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Oregon exclaimed, while Wyoming gaped at Washington.

"Oh, hey guys," Washington casually waved, walking to Idaho's wooden kitchen, with the other states following him. He opened the cabinet for the kitchen, and stuffed the bags of potatoes into the stuffed room. "Just wanted to return Idaho's "babies"."

"Why do you have Idaho's potatoes!?" Wyoming asked, looking baffled like Oregon.

"Long story," Washington explained, closing the cabinet door.

"We have time Washington," Oregon told him. "We just want to know why you have potatoes?"

"Long story short, Idaho's Idaho Vandals won this year, so I wanted to steal his potatoes so I could get him back," Washington explained.

"Wait?" Wyoming said. "You're the one who took away his potatoes?

"Yep."

"That actually explains a lot," Wyoming added.

"But it doesn't sound like a long story to me," Oregon said.

"Trust me, the rest of the story involves Dad, Russia, a cow, and five hundred newspapers."

"Alright, I don't want to know."

"Yep," Washington said, walking over the broken door. "Let's keep it that way." After that, he was gone, making Oregon and Wyoming not speak of the incident for a few weeks.

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**A/N: Had this in my files for a while, wasn't finished, wanted to complete it. Anyways, thanks for reading.**

**Also! If you want more stories about the states, Canada's provinces, Italy's provinces, etc, then give me some ideas, and I'll try to find the best one to create in this series.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I thought about the states, and I thought, 'Are the continents personified?' _Poof. _This chapter appears.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or continents.**

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**Memories**

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Europe was a fair continent, wearing European-style clothing, drinking tea on his Victorian bench. He always does this, always drinking tea to soothe himself; he tolerates coffee also, but prefers tea over it, he would rather be 'calm and collected', than a 'hyper junkie'. Europe felt tea was like soothing his soul, or what Asia might say his 'chakra', he would never understand Asia's ways of life.

"Hey, Europe," A man came to him with a smile. He wore a t-shirt with ripped jeans, also wearing a baseball cap.

Europe smiled at the man. "Hello Nicolas, nice to meet you on this fine day."

Nicolas scowled at the name Nicolas. "Will you please stop calling me Nicolas, it's Nick okay? Jeez, I don't want to sound too European."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Europe said with annoyance, placing the tea on his table. "What's wrong with being European, Nicolas? Too high status for you?"

"No way! I just don't want you to call me that, I'm too cool for high standards," Nicolas explained.

"Really? Say that again to the person who found you, who made you who you are, and gave you the most military efficient countries?"

"Dammit. You're right, just please stop arguing. I didn't come here for that," Nicolas replied, rubbing his head from stress.

"Alright, what is it North America?" Europe asked with Nicolas's official name; it didn't mind Nick, he was born with it after all. "Why don't you sit with me if it really is shocking for you to not say it already." Nick nodded, and sat beside Europe.

North America was quiet, not saying a word as he looked at the floor with sadness, this made the atmosphere uncomfortable to Europe.

"Well?" Europe asked. "Spit it out."

"I miss them."

"W-what?" Europe asked.

"Admit it, you know what I mean. I want to see America, Canada, Mexico, all those countries I raised strongly and proudly," North America explained, bitterness in his voice. "I want to come out of hiding, hug them with great force like I never saw them for decades. I want to interact with them, not see them everyday."

"Nicolas," Europe said softly. "You know we can't show ourse-"

"I know that!" Nick shouted, looking angry. "Our identities might be in danger, and we would endanger the countries as well. I get it!" He stood up, and looked at Europe with anger, but it quickly turned into sadness. "Sorry, I lost some sense in actions." He sat again.

Europe put a hand on North America's shoulder, sighing. "I know what you feel Nicolas, I wanted to meet my countries as well. Germany, England, Ireland, France, and Russia as well! I wanted to see them, but our identities might be found out; it could make great risk to ourselves and them as well." Europe explained, looking at Nick's miserable face.

"If the time is right, we'll show ourselves. Just not today, some day," Europe said, smiling a little.

Nick didn't look at him and sighed. "I guess, but one of our countries might die some day, and I would've miss meeting them. There will always be wars, dissolutions, invasions, and battle, so consequences have to follow."

"Yes Nick," Europe spoke with his name, making North America look at him. "People will die, countries will dissolve, and the world might have another World War, but remember this...it shaped history and yourself today. Without sacrifices, there might never be peace, just conflict and hatred. Without America's independence, it wouldn't be here today. If Germany didn't invade Russia in World War Two, then Russia would've still been allies with the Axis Powers. People shape history, and history shapes us."

Nick looked at him. astonished for a second. He nodded and stood up. "I never thought of that, I guess I feel a little better." He looked at Europe and gave a smile. "Alright, one day we'll meet them; if you lied, I'll kick your ass."

Europe smiled at this. "Alright Nicolas, I'll keep my promise." After that, North America walked out of the room, leaving Europe alone.

Europe looked amazed at how Nicolas became happy, it was fast then he expected. North America must understand like the rest of the continents, that sometimes we need to be patient.

Europe smiled to himself, and drank his tea.

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**A/N: I feel better that I uploaded something. Thank you for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and history.**

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**The Past Can Hurt**

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Italy was not in a good mood today, even if he had a break from the torture Germany called training, he just wanted to sigh out of sadness. He got forced by Romano to clean out his closet, which stocked with relics or antiquities from different periods of time like the Italian Renaissance, the World Wars, or the Italian Wars.

_The Italian Wars_, Italy thought, remembering that faithful battle between France and the Holy Roman Empire. Italy sighed sadly as he heard the name that he once used to know, once a great power in those days, but now it feels like a nightmare after that promise. He was still young with that squeaky feminine voice of his before puberty stroke him like Switzerland's bullets, being mistaken by everyone except Hungary, that he was female. It was a humorous day when Austria realized he was a boy, and began to buy the right clothes for him after seeing his 'I'm stupid' face.

That memory gave a grin to Italy's face, but still held the sadness of the events after being in Holy Rome's house. It happened so suddenly, Austria says that the Empire of nations will not survive, and one day break from the flaws that the government and themselves made. It was true, the Holy Roman Empire did fall, and it gave a bitter taste in Italy's mouth.

He remembered those words from big brother France, who looked grim as he stared at him with his serious but tortured eyes of his experience throughout his history of death, war, and conflict. He looked bitter as he bit his lip, staring at little Italy as if he didn't want to say a sentence that might be dreadful or regrettable...Italy knew why. He gripped Italy's shoulders as he told him a horrifying sentence that made him shiver from fear and disbelief.

_"Italy. _Je suis désolé_, I had to. Holy Rome, he has fallen."_

Italy was heart-broken that his best friend has fallen to the wrath of Napoleon's army, and France had to end him with a blade. Italy didn't blame France for what happened, but when he was little, he felt betrayed by a brother who's related to him, and it felt insulting.

Italy sighed as he took out a jar from a cabinet in his dusty closet, filled with old objects that stored enough dust to choke someone. He analyzed the jar, with its flowery indents that felt smooth but rough from old clay. To be honest, Italy doesn't remember where the jar came from, but it looked beautiful with nostalgia, forcing Italy to try to remember where he got the beautiful jar.

"Oh, I remember," Italy murmured, staring at the jar sadly. "Grandpa Rome gave it to me, when he was becoming a bigger power." Italy spoke the sentences with a longing for the person who raised him to have a colorful history, but also fell with scars and wounds by Germania. It was a sad history, but Italy had to remember that all countries have to go through these emotions throughout the events. Italy placed the jar carefully on a wooden table to remind himself to put the jar in a cabinet in his bedroom.

Italy still searched throughout the cabinets, containers, and items in the open, reminding him of Marco Polo, Leonardo Di Vinci, and Galileo Galilei throughout their time periods, also famous wars that began throughout his years. It gave Italy a smile from nostalgia as he shifted through pictures, drawings, items, etc. These collections of historical items made him yearn for Grandpa Rome, and the Holy Roman Empire; it gave Italy some tears as he saw the old painting Rome made before he died.

Italy felt hopeless, cracking, all those years of loneliness and sadness has finally got to him. He began to shiver as he tried to hold back tears. This effort was in vain as he remembered Rome's last goodbyes, his ragged and intricate scars that decorated his back with red and black, Holy Rome's last goodbye and battle, the bodies that lay in Rome's and Italy's roads in the wars, the Holocaust that brought tears and question his loyalty to Germany, all of his beloveds dying or dissolving, his grandfather's cries of defeat and Holy Rome's sobs and whispers fought against Italy's wishes as he began to let all the loneliness, all the despair, all the torture that he felt as he burst into a hysterical mess of tears and darkness.

He felt all the cries from the ones that Germany's people ridiculed before and after Germany's "Final Solution"; Holy Rome's prayers to stay alive, knowing he can't escape his fate; and all the history that coursed through him that he fought for years and years, caught him in an inescapable trap of loneliness and somber, making his cries echo through the dark cage known as the closet.

He couldn't see straight as he heard a familiar voice that stopped him from his cries to insanity. "F-fratello," Romano whispered in disbelief in the closet door, lights shining into the dark closet since they didn't fix the light bulbs yet in the stuffy room. He saw Italy's tears, and furrowed his eyebrows at his fratello. "Little brother, were you crying?" He asked as Italy attempted to wipe all the salty tears coming out of his eyes, but he still shown the red puffy eyes of crying.

"It's nothing Romano, it's nothing," Italy reassured Romano, but he raised his eyebrows at Italy in an incredulous look.

"Nothing Veneziano! You expect me to believe that nothing is wrong!" Romano shouted at Italy, looking at him with an angry look. Italy knew that Romano cared for him since he only uses his real name if he's serious about something, but his shouts felt mixed in with anger, disbelief, or worry, he doesn't know which emotion surfaced in his big brother's voice. "Who made you cry fratello? I'll tell that bastard to fuck off with the Italian family, since we have Roman and mafia blood in us! That fucking bastard will flee like girly France, and I'll contact the mafia to find him and rip out his–!"

"It's not that Romano! Don't kill big brother France it's not his fault!" Italy blurted out on accident, making Romano angry at the sound of France.

"I knew it! That rose bastard better get ready because I'm going to–!"

"It's not him fratello, it's not big brother France!" Italy intervened from Romano's death threat, who then turned to him. "Oh yeah Veneziano, so why are you crying? It could be that potato bastard he knows how to make the strongest of bastards cry."

"No. It's not Germany, Romano," Italy tugged his sleeve to make him listen. "Fratello, why I was crying is because of this closet."

"Huh?" Romano stared at him, looking back at him and the closet multiple times. "How could a stuffy closet make you cry?"

Italy gave a sad laugh as he looked through the closet that reminded him of the pain of the past. "This closet reminded me about Grandpa Rome, and all of those events we participated or experienced. It reminded me of Grandpa Rome's suffering of being a powerful empire, and the problems that led to Holy Roman Empire's fall. It just hurts me inside," He spoke the last line in a whisper, feeling trapped as he felt pain once again.

"Veneziano," Romano spoke in a whisper filled with understanding and sympathy, his arms twitching a little. "You're not alone Veneziano, he also left me as well. The person that raised me gave me one thing that will remind me about him, and I won't. He gave me the capital Rome, where it all began. It began in Italy, a republic turned into an empire, then Italy became a separate of small countries after Rome fell, and we went through so much just like Rome did. We felt the same experience just like the rest of the countries, hell, even the potato and tomato bastard went through hard times, and countries still hate them today."

"Like you Romano?" Italy asked, wanting to know if Romano's still being a kind friend to Spain, but that's very rare to see.

Romano gave an undecided look like he didn't think about that question before, but the answer was obvious when you saw how the two bonded when Spain took Romano under his care. "I hate him sometimes, but he's the only family other than you that's alive. He raised me up, and fought powerful empires like the rose bastard and the "masked bastard" to make sure I didn't have a rough life when I began as Southern Italy."

Italy smiled at the thought that Romano did care for Spain, he agreed that Spain was related to him, and helped contribute tomatoes to Italy, which became a great time for Southern Italy.

"But remember Veneziano," Romano started with a serious expression that synced with his voice that felt rough and commanding, which reminded him of Germany for some reason. "Throughout my history, I kept ignoring your help and being a coward. It coursed through my blood like the British taking us down like fire versus water, I was cowardly, leaving you with the enemies as you comforted me even if I felt cold to you. I'll never understand how you lived this life through all those traumatizing events, but let me tell you this," Romano's mouth curled upward that shown a warm smile, something that Italy never saw before, and it made Italy smile. Italy knew about how cowardly his brother is, leaving him to face the wrath of enemies in WWII, but Romano was like another human being, he had flaws and wasn't perfect, so he had to suffer with or without him.

"When you comforted me at the Holocaust, showing me the true strength of your mental and physical state, I felt amazed, awed really. I broke down as I couldn't take all the suffering I had to cover with a scowl, and you just looked sad, but you didn't cry. You didn't run away from the scene, you fought it head-on, and I envied your determination for so long, even if you can't show it," Romano explained, making Italy widen his eyes at every statement. He didn't realize how much he was talking about, Romano was telling him his private life that he hid away from him like poison, and told it with a calm tone but filled with hesitation.

"You took care of me like a great brother, and I felt angry for your abilities that wasn't passed down to me from Grandpa Rome. I felt unwanted, you're the star, you're his new descendant of control, and I was left with unfertile soil with a sadness that crept upon me every time you shown your talents. I didn't want to be saved all the time, so I kept hidden inside a shell of hatred and sternness," Romano spoke the last sentence, and sighed at Veneziano, who looked painfully at his brother that he thought was a great brother, and the new information of his brother was alarming.

"Romano, I'm sorry," Italy apologized, making Romano look at him.

"You don't have to say sorry, I just need one request from a brother to feel better of this ongoing life," Romano said simply, which confused Italy. Romano spoke the last words. "The only thing I need, is to comfort the brother that I neglected but felt connected with for a long time."

Italy looked at him with a surprised face, and a few tears actually made it to his eyes. "Okay fratello, okay."

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**A/N: Woah. Didn't realize the chapter is long. So yes, Romano feels a little OOC, but that's what I think about him. An older brother who experienced too much like his younger brother, but still protects him and loves him even if he doesn't show it. Thank you for reading this chapter, and bye!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or history.**

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**Rome's Fall**

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Roman Empire was an excellent empire that felt pride from the achievements that the rest of Europe can't carry out and were rotting without the technology and society that's convoluted to them, at least that's what Rome and his citizen's thought. Rome was a great man, basking in the warm glow of the sun as he walked through his capital that he's pleased with. His government was running okay, his entertainment is distracting his citizens so they couldn't worry about the barbarians, so he was joyous for them to smile and watch at gladiator fights.

Rome was a little uncertain about the news of Germanic barbarians and slaves recruited into his military, since they're his enemy, but it wouldn't be bad for some new recruits, can it? Rome knew that one day his military must fight to keep this empire united with peace and joy, so he doubted that the legacy will die. His power amongst territory is immense, so the worry that resided in him eased a bit, but small amounts of doubt were not leaving so soon.

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He was running. Running as fast as his stiff, scarred legs could manage. He held the hand of a whimpering little girl as they ran throughout the capital of Rome that's filled with deadly smoke and screams of his people. He wore his armor as he felt fire crackling around his feet, making him hiss as he felt tinder touching his soft flesh on his left foot. He felt tears in his eye as the smoke almost blinded him from the path out of Rome, trying to evade the rebellious barbarians that roared with rage and independence.

He questioned how it led to this; the rebellion of the slaves and angry men in the army, killing his people and razing his once powerful buildings. He wanted this to stop, he didn't want these people to kill innocents that had nothing to do with the predicament. They didn't even realize the barbarian problem because of the government, so their lives were naïve and pitiful, thrown aside for the freedom of these repulsive men.

He grabbed the body of the girl whom was almost seized violently by a leather-clothed barbarian, who bared teeth at Rome who started to run mercilessly, trying to calm down the crying girl on his back. He glanced desperately around the road he ran on, looking for a hiding place from the barbarian, because he didn't want the girl harmed or alone as he fought the evil-eyed man.

He noticed an old door sticking out from a building that was similar to an apartment, so he glanced back at the man who ran at him, punched him in his eyes to daze him, and ran for the door that was beckoning for him. He didn't look back as he wandered through the building, hiding the girl in a barrel as he heard the distant steps of the barbarian running away to find them elsewhere.

Rome sighed in relief as he took the girl, and ran outside to see clouds of smoke piling between each other as he felt millions of feet pounding on his roads, where he experienced dread as he ran away from the loud pounding on the roads behind him.

After everything he did, after everything he tried to achieve... he didn't save her. He was hopeless when the barbarians ambushed them, dividing them as he struggled when they raised one of their axes at the girl's neck. Rome closed his eyes when that axe went into contact with her nape, after the contact, a swift thud fell upon his ears. Vile and anger rose throughout his body, growling and screaming as he felt their axes trying to amputate him. He had to fight through the barrages of axes and wild men, his escape deadly at the beginning.

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He felt hopeless as his old scars shown brightly through the new scars with blood and pain, making him wince while he stared at the collapsed and broken city of Rome, knowing his reign is dying fast. For a reason though, this event was different then the other dissolutions or collapses of old civilizations. No, he didn't fade, didn't see bright lights, didn't die yelling with agony by a spear through his chest. He was still alive, breathing deeply from the realization that even though his empire was falling apart, he was still breathing and living.

He grit his teeth at the realization, and felt hesitant to accept this new, cruel fate. He will still experience more tragedies. He won't die, then he will have to look at the story unfolding in front of him as history passes and goes. He felt miserable but happy, his emotions mixed with scars and was sticky from the blood of the barbarians. He was still existent, but had to hide from the barbarians who scoured his old capital for resources, then going their merry way to find more territories or villages to pillage or destroy. Even after they left, Rome felt guilty and stupid as he felt a reluctance to show himself in the world again. He hid away as he watched Europe and the rest of the world aging with blood and wisdom, more countries and civilizations forming with new memories of their history, and he felt sympathy for the countries that must go through what he went through.

But the most hardest decision to decide, was to let Italy and Romano go, watch them helplessly as they went through wars, battles, religions, and independence. Those two didn't need his help, they're grown up now, if you believe it or not. He felt sad as Italy's kicked around by the Franks, I mean France, the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, and other powers. He felt saddened at Romano's growing hatred and coldness to the world and him, making Rome cringe at some curse words that could actually make him faint. He wanted to see those two someday, it was hard for him not to see those bambinos he raised and cherished, but he felt guilty for not pampering or loving Romano, he was lonely throughout his developing years.

One day, Rome will see them again, and hug them with the force of the Roman legions. He will see them one day, he hoped for that moment. He will wait for that moment, and wait before the world dies. He misses them. He just wishes to see them.

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**A/N: Saw History CrashCourse's video of Rome, so I decided to learn more about Rome, and this little story came to mind.**


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